


I Can See Your Ghosts

by Sylphidine_Gallimaufry



Series: Tales of Nightmare Dork University [18]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Nightmare Dork University - Fandom, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gift Fic, NDU Brunhilde - Freeform, NDU Purradox - Freeform, NDU Tarminator - Freeform, Nightmare Dork University (Fanverse), Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylphidine_Gallimaufry/pseuds/Sylphidine_Gallimaufry
Summary: Jack Sickle has his hands full with an extra charge while pet-sitting over winter break at NDU.
Series: Tales of Nightmare Dork University [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/577933
Kudos: 1





	I Can See Your Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ROTGSecretSanta Stocking Stuffer 2020 event on Tumblr.
> 
> <https://rotgsecretsanta.tumblr.com>
> 
> Dedeicated with affection and high regard to val.

##  _**December 24th, 2pm** _

_“You… you can eat potatoes, right? I mean… y-y-you’re not… allergic, or an-any-anything?”_

_“Not in the least, Jack. It should be an intriguing experiment, sampling YOUR cooking.”_

##  _**December 24th, 4pm** _

_“I tried… I really tr-tr-tried, but the store… the store was shut earlier th-than I th-tho-thought and now… and n-n-n-now I don’t have ingredients and P-P-Piki’s pantry’s empty and…”_

_“I’m sure we’ll find that one of our erstwhile roommates has left something behind. The esteemed Cossimo is never one to resist stockpiling starches.”_

##  _**December 24th, 9pm** _

_“Oh dear. Perhaps we shouldn’t have used the GREEN potatoes, Jack. I don’t suppose you took the solanine factor into account.”_

* * *

As had happened last year, Jack had practically jumped at the excuse not to go home from NDU for the winter break, when asked by Piki in mid-December to look after Brunhilde. The playwright had smothered Jack with kisses at the thought that his sweet but lethargic Siamese cat would not have to be boarded over the holidays.

Piki didn’t know, or chose to ignore, that Pitch and Pitchiner had also asked Jack to look after their pets, since they couldn’t trust Proto as far as they could throw him. [In Coz’s case, the distance that Proto could be thrown might well be a prodigious one, if Coz could bear to touch the man.] 

Jack had no problem with the idea of shuttling between his dorm, Piki’s apartment, and the flat that Pitch and Coz shared with Proto, in order to spend time feeding and petting Brunhilde, doing the same for Pitch’s cat Purradox as well as brushing her long coat, and feeding, walking and playing with Tarminator the pug. He hugged the secret to himself of having THREE animals to pamper. Three beings that didn’t judge him or make him nervous.

Classes and finals were done with. Pitch and Piki drove off in separate cars to their parents’ home. Pitchiner’s parents picked him up on campus after collecting his grandparents for the long drive upstate. Jack jingled the extra sets of keys he’d been entrusted with and released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

He wasn’t sure what Proto would be up to for the next two weeks, but he hoped he could avoid the frightening man if he tried very hard.

Of course, Murphy’s Law meant that Proto was unavoidable. **  
**

What had never occurred to Jack was that “unavoidable” involved a scenario in which Proto would NEED him.

* * *

For four straight days, Jack’s luck had held.out. 

He left his dorm at 6am each morning and headed to Pitch and Pitchiner’s to take care of Tarminator first, as well as laying down hard kibble and fresh water for Purradox. Both when he got there each day and when he returned an hour later from taking Tar for his walk, Proto’s bedroom door had been closed each time, and thankfully there had been no sign of Mister Pickles, either. 

Jack would then head over to Piki’s to spend time with Brunhilde, who loved nothing better than someone to nap with. Piki had told Jack explicitly to feel free to use up any of the foodstuffs in the flat, so Jack enjoyed the chance to make messes in the kitchen undisturbed. While Coz had told him he had free rein in his and Pitch’s kitchen as well, somehow the thought of Proto popping up unexpectedly at any given time put a damper on Jack’s appetite. He was much happier making his meals at Piki’s place and taking the leftovers back to the dorm.

He would usually leave Piki’s apartment around 2pm with a full belly and spend a few hours in his dorm room reading. The RA on duty was used to him by now, and as long as Jack didn’t leave a security door unlocked or his hot plate plugged in, he was considered trustworthy and not needing a check-in. 

Jack dutifully sent e-mail home every afternoon, although he never got a reply. Each day he convinced himself that his parents were just busy, and distracted himself with looking forward to the evening cat-brushing and dog-walking.

Twice he had run into Proto briefly as he came back to drop Tarminator off for the night, but both times the other man had seemed to be on his way out, and in too much of a hurry to do more than give Jack a small wave of his ridiculously large hand.

On the fifth day, Jack’s luck ran out.

* * *

##  **_December 24th, 6:20am_ **

As Jack turned his keys in the lock, he heard a canine whine behind the door. Usually Tarminator would yip to greet him, so the whine was the first sign that All Was Not Quite Right.

The second sign was when Jack came through the door, Tarminator continued to whine, the sound of “I Know I’ve Been Bad But I Didn’t Mean It Really I Didn’t”. 

The third sign was that Purradox came streaking out of the kitchen and halted at Jack’s feet before headbutting his shins.

Purradox was _never_ that friendly with Jack, although she’d warmed up quite a lot over the last year. Her behavior, more than the pug’s, was what alarmed Jack most and had him standing frozen in the foyer, although he did have the presence of mind to close the apartment door so that neither pet would dash outside.

The sound of scrabbling movement in the kitchen could be heard. Jack braced himself for an onslaught of giant centipedes or an army of wolf spiders to start charging down the hallway towards him. Instead, Proto’s voice sang out, “I know you’re out there, Jack. I can hear you breathing.”

Snapping back to reality, Jack stammered, “H-h-hello?”

“Why, yes, hello to you too, although it’s a bit difficult to see around corners. I’d come out to meet you, but that’s a bit impractical at the moment. “

Visions of Proto’s more… extreme pastimes swam before Jack’s eyes, and he blurted out, "No, that's… that’s OK. You…you just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll take Tarminator for his walk.”

“Oh, Jack, Jack, Jack. You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you. Please come to the kitchen because I CAN’T COME OUT TO SEE YOU. ”

The other’s voice had changed dramatically in the course of the sentence from self-contained and analytical to something almost rough and stretched beyond endurance. There was PAIN in that voice and it galvanized Jack into motion. 

He almost skidded into the kitchen at a run, both Tarminator and Purradox at his heels. 

Proto sat on the floor leaning against the cabinet below the sink. His right hand was cradled in his lap and even from a distance Jack could see that the wrist was swollen. Possibly dislocated or broken, at a guess. In addition, his right leg was twisted under him. Jack couldn’t help muttering, “Oh dear.”

“Oh dear, indeed.” 

“What- what happened?”

“I seem to have taken a fall over Pitchiner’s sweet, fragile little animal. Astounding how something so small can do so much damage. In any case, some assistance would be appreciated. ”

Some long-buried part of Jack’s mind had a flash of glee over the notion of a helpless Proto, but it passed. Being given something to do was much more comfortable. 

He hunkered down and gently took Proto’s hand in his, asking in a quiet voice whether he could flex his fingers, while Jack ran his own fingers lightly over the wrist. It felt warm to the touch and was starting to bruise. Proto stared unblinkingly at him and silently indicated his ankle as well. Jack cautiously pulled it from its bent position to a straightened one, thankfully with no more reaction from Proto than a flicker of discomfort.

“O-okay. Let me help you up. Couch or room?”

“Couch, if you would be so good. " 

Jack carefully put his hands under Proto’s armpits and pulled the lanky man upwards and towards him, being sure that the injured hand was not bent between their torsos. As he put weight on his ankle, Proto hissed and narrowed his eyes, showing just how much he was discomfited by needing Jack’s help. Jack stifled a giggle at this confirmation that Pitch and Proto were related; that hiss had been pure Pitch. 

Somehow the smaller man got the taller one to his feet and into the living room. The cat and the dog had the sense to back off while Jack was maneuvering Proto to the couch, Purradox flouncing off with her tail in a floof, Tarminator retreating to Pitchiner’s room. Once Proto was seated, though, Jack was at a loss. His adrenaline ran out and his innate insecurities returned. What if he, Jack, had set matters in motion in such a way that it was his fault that Proto had been hurt? What if it was his fault that Tarminator had gotten underfoot? He couldn’t do anything right, he messed everything up…. He squeezed his eyes tight, forgetting that Proto was right in front of him until a huge cold hand seized his arm and he HAD to look at the other man.

Two pairs of blue eyes locked gazes; one pair burning like a chemical fire, the other pair glinting with shades of water and ice. Proto smiled in his usual fashion and said, "That’s better. Breathe, Jack. You’re no use to me passed out. And yes, you’re going to be of use to me.”

Those words had an almost electric effect on Jack. He straightened up and his eyes widened even more as he shook off Proto’s grip. His voice trembled as he said, “I’ll help you. You don’t - you don’t have to threaten me.”

“Oh, no?”

“No.”

Proto raised an eyebrow as Jack continued, “Since you haven’t asked me to call an ambulance for you, I’ll assume you don’t have any broken bones and you didn’t hit your head, so there’s no concussion to worry about. Campus Health probably would do the same things I can do. So. First I’m going to wrap that wrist and get you a sling for the shoulder. Then I have to walk the dog, and then I have to - I have to f-find a way to get Brunhilde here, i-i-i-if I’m going to have to stay here tonight or l-l-longer…”

Damn, he’d started out so well, actually sounding like he knew what he was talking about, but the stutter had crept back in. Jack gulped and forged onwards. “Do you - do you want me to find Coz’s old crutches? Do you need painkillers, or… do you already have something? And… and are you going to b-b-be able to manage…” His voice trailed off and he blushed hotly as he waggled his head in the direction of the bathroom.

That earned Jack a dark chuckle from Proto. “Yes, nurse, I can manage my more fluid-based bodily functions. I still have one working hand, after all.” He fixed Jack with another of his intense stares. “I think I will avail myself of your offer of crutches. Thank you, Jack.”

Jack ducked his head and muttered, “You’re welcome.” It didn’t escape his notice that the question about painkillers had been completely ignored.

He turned quickly to head into Coz’s room, where he knew he’d find the first aid supplies he’d need. On his return, he found Proto leaning his head back and his eyes closed. Leaning the crutches on the arm of the couch, Jack sat down softly next to Proto and began to gently wrap the sore wrist. Without opening his eyes, Proto said, “You can use one of my scarves from the hall closet for a sling, and you’re going to have to do the cooking. There’s money in the bread box for an Uber and groceries.”

“Sssshhhhh. W-way ahead of you.” 

“I leave myself in your capable hands, then.”

* * *

During his extra-long walk with Tarminator, Jack had had time to ruminate on what he’d talked himself into. As long as he focused on the mechanics of the situation, he could handle it. 

Proto had retreated to his room by the time Jack brought Tar back to the apartment. He took the time to make an assessment of what foodstuffs could be divided into things he could eat versus things that Proto could eat. It seemed silly to Jack to be planning separate meals, though, so he figured he could probably stomach vegan food for a few days. Whole wheat pasta shouldn’t be too different than, say, Prince spaghetti, right? And tomatoes were tomatoes, and cucumber was cucumber…

He walked to Piki’s and gently coaxed Brunhilde into her blue NDU hooded sweater. He lured her into the cat carrier with the aid of her favourite plush toy, a stuffed giraffe. He packed her special dish and her special food and her special pillow. On the Uber ride back to the flat, he looked up vegan recipes on his phone.

One recipe caught Jack’s eye and made his heart nearly stop in unexpected anguish. 

Vegan latkes. With vegan tzatziki sauce instead of sour cream.

He had been trying so hard to ignore the time of year and the guilt it always brought him [not that the guilt wasn’t present during every other day of the year]. 

It was a sign.

Emma had loved latkes. Jack missed his little sister more than words could say.

He didn’t like Proto. He was, quite frankly, terrified of Proto. But Proto needed him.

Jack could not save the dead, but he could help the living.

It meant a trip to the health food store, but that shouldn’t be any different from a regular supermarket, right?

And that’s where Jack ran into trouble.

* * *

He got Brunhilde set up in Coz’s room after showing her the covered catbox in the bathroom; thankfully Purradox ignored her after a quick sniff. It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and the daylight was starting to turn overcast. Jack knocked on Proto’s door and was answered with an invitation to come in. Proto was propped up in bed, Mister Pickles on his lap, a psychology textbook at his side. A half-full bowl on the nightstand reassured Jack that at least Proto could reheat leftovers one-handed. 

Jack said hesitantly, "I’m going to need your cellphone number. ”

Proto’s eyebrows rose, and he replied, “How intimate. Are you sure Piki won’t disapprove?”

“Piki isn’t here to approve or disapprove. I’m just doing what needs doing. I c-c-can make us meals for a few days with what you’ve got, but I wanted to try… to try something… something new. You… you can eat potatoes, right? I mean… y-y-you’re not… allergic, or an-any-anything?”

“Not in the least, Jack. It should be an intriguing experiment, sampling YOUR cooking.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Then I’m going to go shopping and I’ll be back in a bit.”

Two hours later, he was nearly in tears. He had gotten to the health food store about twenty minutes before they closed. He’d forgotten it was Christmas Eve and that some people actually _wanted_ to go home to their families. He found the coconut yogurt, the flax seed, and the almond milk, but the potato bins were completely empty. Jack made his purchases and asked the Uber driver to take him back to the flat, not even daring to try the big supermarket since it too was likely to be closed.

Why hadn’t he left earlier, why hadn’t he called ahead, why, why, why… The broken record kept yammering in his head as he trudged disconsolately up the stairs with his groceries. 

As Jack unpacked his purchases on the counter, Proto limped in, one crutch tucked under his left arm. He seemed able to gingerly use the right foot again in a sort of hop-glide motion. Jack thought to himself that the other man was a lot less likely to be able to sneak up on him or to loom over him, and he wasn’t sure why that idea gave him so much pleasure. He felt a sudden burst of confidence, but then he was reminded of his failure to acquire potatoes. His upset must have shown on his face, because Proto commented, “Something wrong?” 

That released the flood of self-recrimination.

“I tried… I really tr-tr-tried, but the store… the store was shut earlier th-than I th-tho-thought and now… and n-n-n-now I don’t have ingredients and P-P-Piki’s pantry’s empty and…”

Proto seated himself at the kitchen table clumsily and let Jack’s tirade wind itself down. He steepled his fingers and said, “I’m sure we’ll find that one of our erstwhile roommates has left something behind. The esteemed Cossimo is never one to resist stockpiling starches.”

Jack blinked tears out of his lashes and met Proto’s flat gaze. “You think so?”

“Bottom cabinet, behind the frypans, you’ll find a bag of potatoes. He may have the manners of a barbarian, but our athletic friend has a great deal of common sense. Darkest spot in the house, best place for tubers. You’ll probably find some onions there, too.”

A few minutes later, as he started grating potatoes and onions and collecting the liquid for the potato starch, Jack found himself actually chattering away to Proto, of all people, about library books and how he’d like to have a houseful of books with Brodart covers. Some large rock in his chest seemed to have rolled away. The lanky man was paying complete and utter attention to him in a way that was far different than Piki’s obsessive hovering, or even Proto’s usual clinical observation mode. For the first time, Jack did not feel like a bug under a microscope.

He fell unconsciously into a long-forgotten rhythm as he prepped Coz’s cast-iron pan with Proto’s sunflower oil and got the latkes ready for frying. Proto seemed rather impressed that Jack knew what a flax egg was and applauded him on his execution of same. All in all, the atmosphere in the kitchen was downright cozy, something Jack never would have expected.

The sheer quantity of food that the two put away would have done Pitchiner proud. Tarminator begged at Jack’s feet, but he resisted giving the pug any. There was still a large platter of leftovers that Jack carefully covered and left on the warmer on the stovetop.

“Shall we adjourn to the living room?” inquired Proto as Jack finished washing their plates and utensils. Shy again, Jack nodded. “Do… do you n-n-need to stretch out?”

“If you can set me up with the ottoman, that should work.”

They settled in peaceably with their various reading choices. All three animals joined Jack on the couch, while Proto leaned back in the armchair, his foot propped up as requested. Snow had started falling outside, as seen through the picture window, and it was an almost surrealistically perfect scene. Jack had to wonder what Hallmark movie he’d wandered into. Proto did not seem to be either the flannel-draped country hunk or the disillusioned city-slicker damsel.

His muffled giggle turned into a yawn, and he noticed that Proto had put his book down and closed his eyes. Now _there_ was an excellent idea; a nap would feel wonderful after the early start to his day and the current state of his overfull stomach. He shifted himself to make room for curling up without disturbing the two sleeping cats and the snoring pup.

Some time later, he woke to find the living room dark, his head pillowed on someone’s thigh and someone’s fingers rippling through his hair. A soft voice said, “Oh dear. Perhaps we shouldn’t have used the GREEN potatoes, Jack. I don’t suppose you took the solanine factor into account.”

Jack stayed very still out of habit, his mind racing. An injured Proto should not have been able to join him on the couch without making any noise. But then again, perhaps Jack WAS that tired. He tried to speak normally and asked, “Oh?”

“I can see your ghosts, you know.”

Now Jack was alert. In all the time he’d known the other man, he’d never seen him impaired by alcohol or chemicals. He did a mental rifling through the pages of his memory and came up with a recollection. His cousin Frost had once told him that how potatoes were in the same family as deadly nightshade, and… 

“Proto… d-d-did you take any Benadryl or oxycontin today?”

A breathy sigh that ruffled his hair was his only answer.

That was the least strange thing that had happened in this long, strange day. Jack resigned himself to being needed a bit longer and snuggled into his current bony pajama-clad pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on [my Tumblr](https://sylphidine.tumblr.com/post/639337148329377792/ndu-i-can-see-your-ghosts). Come follow me there!


End file.
